The best car I’ve ever driven! And it’s gone!
It was love at first sight. The Brabus badge winked at me from under a car cover. I was back at primary school and a girl out of my league was talking to me.
My face went red, and then I made a proposal: “Keith if you ever want to sell her, can you let me know?” About three years later the call came.
You’ve made a mistake buying that Aston Martin, should have kept the BRABUS
My good friend was having a clear out, and I bought the car without even driving it (although I had sat in the driver’s seat… once).
My betrothed lived in the climate-controlled storage at Grampian Transport Museum when I bought her, so in the following April we set off to collect her.
“Sorry, Keith,” I thought to myself. “You’ve made a mistake buying that Aston Martin, should have kept the Brabus.”
A thought reinforced years later when, as you know, I had an Aston Martin DB11 AMR for a while as I wanted to prove it could be an everyday Supercar.
Yes, I proved the Aston could be an everyday car for me; I took it to the tip, the supermarket, it sat outside on the drive, did a few long distance runs, parked it at The Horn for a bacon roll, and took it on nights out.
I found the Aston relaxing and comfier than my Skechers with their relaxed fit memory foam, but – and this is important – wheel to wheel despite the alleged 630bhp AMR engine, the BRABUS is the better driver’s car.
And it’s not just me saying this. I let another respected road tester drive my car, and he agreed. My car’s engine had the magic done on it by the best engine builder BRABUS had back in 2004, so perhaps 550bhp is a conservative number? It was also the most expensive car Brabus did that year at £168k.
How can I describe this value for money? Well, it can be superbike quick on back roads and handles perfectly. The work done on the engine was good, very good, but the work on suspension was even better.
It’s like taking the four-wheel drive 405 hp Massey Ferguson MF 8700 S to work on the allotment
It is derestricted so could crack 200mph, allegedly, yet so refined and serene a passenger can sleep in an air conditioned and massaging chair at the same time. Visually, it’s automotive art to those in the know, with that slightly lowered body.
And a Q car, too, as you don’t attract unwanted attention or envy on the road. Which appeals to the other love of my life I live with, as she will not willingly go near an Aston Martin. In summary, then, it’s perfect.
I loved it so much I used to sneak into the garage when feeling a little down, just to sit in the beautifully trimmed cabin, walk round admiring it, then cover it up again with a feeling that all was well in the world.
So why have I sold it? Good question. Well, in 2021, and on our rural roads, it just doesn’t work. None of us could ever use the power on tap. It’s like taking the four-wheel drive 405 hp Massey Ferguson MF 8700 S to work on the allotment.
Now, look at the alloy wheels. The tyre sidewall has the depth of 1500 grade of sandpaper. So, when the wheel rolls over a pothole, the alloy buckles. That’ll be a few hundred pounds to repair. If you are lucky. New one, sir? That’ll be £2500. I was lucky, once.
However, these aren’t the real reasons it had to go. No, “she” was causing me to lose my mind. As all honeys do. If it was wet, and it usually is, I was so upset being out with her I wasn’t enjoying actually driving.
We never went to the supermarket together. In fact, any parking was an anxious experience of multiple movements. It gets worse; when at a farm shop I asked some well-meaning but spatially unaware soul to move his car as he was too close to her.
Last year when on a trip, the hotel booking at our main hotel was on the strength of having the safest spot in the car park being reserved for her. No one was allowed in the next space, as two were reserved.
At the end of our relationship, I didn’t even like carrying passengers
I knew I’d lost it when at another hotel on the trip I moved her three times to secure the safest spot.
That evening, after a night out I went to the car park in my pyjamas to check her, then, having found a small bird deposit on the bonnet had to wash the whole panel. Then shift her to another spot.
At the end of our relationship, I didn’t even like carrying passengers, as sometimes grit would get onto the Brabus logoed Axminster. I was so obsessed with keeping her perfect I had lost all the enjoyment.
I wasn’t sure what Sting meant when he sang “If you love somebody set them free”. I do now.
